Pillow Thought
by The Authoress Complex
Summary: A typical night consisted of Ratchet falling asleep, snoozing for six hours, and awakening to Clank's smiling face. But Clank only needs a half-hour of recharge time. What does he do for the other five and a half hours that Ratchet is out? Ratchet/Clank Pairing. Happy Valentine's Day!


The typical bedtime routine proceeded as follows:

Firstly, Ratchet would show the initial signs of exhaustion. Yawning, half-lidded eyes, increasing lack of attention to the words that fell from his best friend's mouth. Of course, he would deny that he was tired until on the brink of sleep itself, so Clank had to keep an eye out for these signs himself. A rough estimation of the time that these signs would begin appearing was between twenty hundred hours and twenty-four hundred hours standard Solanian time scale. These numbers were based on statistical information of Ratchet's sleeping patterns and, while not always accurate, gave Clank a range of time to expect his friend's exhaustion.

Once said exhaustion was taken note of by the little robot, he would take steps to convince Ratchet to retire for the night. Often, the matter was simply to announce that he was leaving to recharge for the night and wait for Ratchet to join him, which took an average of five to six minutes. These were the nights when they were simply killing time: watching holovision, playing games or simply talking. Of course, this wasn't always the case; there were nights where Ratchet received inspiration for some wayward invention and would, if he could, work on it until the crack of dawn. These nights, Clank pulled out all the stops. He cooed, cuddled and kissed until he was able to distract his Lombax companion enough for the creative juices to stop flowing and allow Ratchet to get a good night's sleep. And then there were the bad nights. Nights following days where Ratchet had to spend extended periods of time with Qwark, was confronted with his own past, had to deal with politicians or, very rarely, got into a fight with the little robot himself. These nights no attempt to drag Ratchet to bed was even made; he was allowed to work out the negative energy on his own, even if it meant working himself to exhaustion. But no matter the case, whenever Ratchet finally did doze off, Clank was never too far away.

This had started even before they had gotten together; shortly after the Great Clock, in fact. The result of recurring nightmares had by the Lombax. Clank could still recall it with perfect accuracy, thanks to his computerized memory banks. Ratchet's short screams, more often than not for Clank, would pierce through the apartment in the nights following their return. The first night was the worse; it took a while to remind Ratchet that they were both really here, that he was really back and okay. Ratchet had brushed it off, but a few more nights of repeating the incident convinced him to allow Clank to move into his room, recharging on the nightstand to easier reach his companion. It seemed that the change benefited them both; Ratchet got the rest he so thoroughly needed and deserved, and Clank was able to see his friend at his most vulnerable; a daily reminder of how much they needed each other. How much HE needed Ratchet, actually, and how easily Ratchet could be taken from him. It was just another constituent of their odd mutual obsession with each other.

Neither of them needed much preparation before resting for the night. Ratchet would change into an old pair of pants he never wore in public anymore and sometimes brush his teeth, if he remembered. Clank would take a quick moment to scan his hardware for malfunctions and his software for viruses, both of which had the potential to take hold and do serious damage during his recharge cycle. On good days, there would be a quick before bed kiss before Ratchet would journey to the land of Nod for another night. Clank would usually stay conscious until he was certain that Ratchet was slumbering before he, too, would begin his own recharge for the night.

But the thing was, whereas Ratchet required six full hours of sleep for a full charge, Clank only needed thirty minutes to rejuvenate himself. A full hour, if he was recharging his back-up power cell as well.

How Clank spent the rest of his time, oddly enough, depended on Ratchet himself.

Some nights Ratchet would toss and turn as he slept, sometimes gripping the sheets painfully tight, sometimes wailing pathetically. There were occasional variances – gasps of pain or surprise, the occasional mumbled word – but the core of it remained the same. Clank never really knew what went on inside the nightmares that plagued the poor Lombax's sleep. The explanation, if there was any at all, was always brief and undetailed. But it hardly mattered; it always ended the same way. Clank would awaken the Lombax any way he could, whether that mean shaking him or holding him down or screaming his name for all of Solana to hear. Sometimes his efforts earned him a fist to the face or a quick trip to the floor, headfirst. But Ratchet always apologized when he awakened, giving a guilty look to match the pain already caused by the nightmare and Clank would have to spend several minutes reassuring Ratchet that he was fine, and that he was not mad at the Lombax. After awakening from a nightmare, it usually took some time for Ratchet to fall back asleep, and Clank was more than content to snuggle up with him until he was safely locked in slumber's embrace, and usually stayed within the Lombax's arms until morning.

On bad nights, Ratchet would usually fall asleep slumped against a wall or at a desk. These nights he nodded off later than others and fell into a deeper sleep than normal. Clank would then make his move. If he'd been able to, he would have carried Ratchet to bed, but lacked the strength and size for it. He had to make due with wrapping a thick blanket around his friend's shoulders and discreetly fitting a pillow between his head and whatever medium he'd fallen asleep on this time. He knew better than to attempt to disrupt the slumber further; on bad days, Ratchet preferred to suffer in solitude. Clank was the only one he allowed close, but his body language made it perfectly clear that overindulgence was unacceptable. In the morning, he was usually only a little sore and probably wouldn't have had any problem with Clank curling up next to him, but better safe than sorry. Perhaps one day he'd become brave enough to try it for real. Perhaps even someday soon.

Then there were the nights when Ratchet snored. These were special occasions, where the Lombax relaxed his guard enough to fall into deep, deep slumber. It was nearly impossible to wake him on these nights – nearly, as Clank discovered when he accidentally tumbled to the ground alongside a lamp one night. The lamp did not survive the encounter and needed to be replaced, but it was well worth the price to have Ratchet hold him and inspect him for damage before forcing him into an embrace that lasted the entire night. But this was an abnormal occurrence. Under more typical circumstances, Clank would spend the time doing something he'd never be able to get away with if Ratchet was awake. His fingers would carefully move along his body, caressing every possible area they could as Clank mapped it to memory. The intention behind this was not purely romantic or reminiscent; if there was no nanotech immediately available whenever Ratchet got himself hurt, then he'd usually forget about a wound until it was mostly healed and, of course, forget to mention it to Clank. The only way he could be absolutely certain that Ratchet hadn't received some sort of new scar in the short periods of time when they were apart was this rare examination; this sporadic period of exploration that allowed Clank to learn every curve and contour of his best friend's fragile body.

Most nights, however, Ratchet spent sleeping calmly; no sound other than soft, barely audible breathing; no movement other than the subtle rise and fall of his chest. While some would mistake his slumber for peaceful, Clank knew better. The moment any unnatural light or noise or smell occurred, Ratchet would be up, his ever-present Omniwrench gripped firmly between his fingers as his ears and eyes worked together to identify whatever intruded upon his sleep. Clank couldn't risk touching him or even making too loud of a noise when he was like this, which was most of the time, lest he wake up with the worst of assumptions on his mind.

The roughly five and a half hour period Clank would spend awake without Ratchet were always spent by his side, regardless of any work that needed to be done or constructive ideas that would occur. Clank had to be quiet, but found that he rather liked the change. Some nights, he would test his limits; see how much he could move around before Ratchet began to stir. Some nights, he would read or write down ideas that occurred to him in the night within the scarlet confines of a notepad Ratchet had gotten for him one day, seemingly randomly. Sometimes he would call up and begin to memorize new star maps, on the chance that his ventures with his Lombax friend would one day take him to these places.

Most nights, he just laid still and thought.

While this may seem like a boring way to pass time for an organic being, Clank was a robot and, thus, had a computerized memory bank. Every moment of his life; from what, exactly, he was thinking to every sensory circuit's output was recorded and impressed permanently into his mind. It was like traveling back in time to relive the best moments of your life, and Clank found himself doing this most often at night, with his best friend lying beside him. His favorite memories to revisit included their first meeting, every reunion they'd ever had, meeting his various friends (and later, family) for the first times and the relationship milestones he and Ratchet had reached. The most revisited moment in his logs was their first kiss; fifty-two days following their return from the Great Clock.

It had been an early morning. To be perfectly clear, it had been the first and only morning Clank had spent away from Ratchet since they had started sleeping in the same room. His intentions hadn't been malicious. He had simply wanted to treat his long-time companion to a nice, homemade breakfast. It had been Ratchet's birthday – well, not his birthday exactly, but the date Ratchet had decided, long ago, represented the anniversary of his birth. The specially made breakfast had almost been completed when he heard the frantic screaming of one word over and over again; oddly enough, the word hadn't been his name, but no. No no no no no, over and over again. The sight that had greeted him when he returned to Ratchet's side was heartbreaking, at best. The Lombax was slumped against the side of the bed, head buried in his head as he heaved heavily. He mumbled to himself as he did so, but the words were inaudible to Clank as he crept forth, hand outstretched to rest on his friend's shoulder. When they made contact, it was as if someone had flipped a switch within the Lombax. He drank in the sight of his friend greedily, then embraced him, telling him how he'd thought Clank was gone again; that he'd never really rescued him. He whispered sweet nothings and held Clank tight and then pulled him in and pressed his lips clumsily against the robot's mouth, desperate to take in more of his best friend.

It had been followed by a hasty apology, Ratchet begging Clank not to leave him – this was followed by their second kiss, after which Clank reassured his new lover that he wasn't going anywhere.

Sometimes, Clank relived the bad times as well. It wasn't his favorite thing to do, but they served as a reminder to himself that Ratchet – _his_ Ratchet, his best friend – was just as vulnerable as any other living being. That they weren't perfect and did make mistakes. The small things always came to mind first; how stubborn Ratchet could be, especially when it came to his own pain, or how overprotective (borderline possessive) he could get. That wasn't to say Clank couldn't recall his own faults. How forceful and manipulative he could be; how he was used to getting his own way. There were jealousy issues on both sides of the equation, that neither of them would deny, but it was largely ignored because neither of them spent enough time with anyone else for them to get overly envious. But in the end it was alright, because Ratchet was there, curled up with his ears twitching rather cutely.

When they'd became a couple, Clank had been worried about their current sleeping arrangements. After all, sharing a bedroom with your best friend is one thing. Sharing it with your lover is quite another. An entire five hours was spent by the robot debating the pros and cons of moving out onto the couch, or perhaps even out of the apartment, before it was decided, ultimately, that neither of them would get any sleep if that were the case. Ratchet needed Clank near when he slept and Clank had grown used to being the first thing his best friend saw when he'd awoken. It was one of the few things that hadn't changed the day they'd shared that kiss. One thing that did change, though, was Clank's spot in Ratchet's room. It had been an abrupt change; one night, weeks after they'd gotten together, Ratchet had grasped him and held him close like a child's toy as he fell asleep. For the first hour or so it had been irritating, but soon became rather endearing. After that, sharing a bed with Ratchet had become natural.

There had been one night, and only one night, since then that they'd been apart. It had been a rather pointless argument about something that ended up not mattering in the end. Ratchet had locked himself in his workshop, refusing to let Clank in even as the sky grew dark and the night began. Clank had found himself unable to recharge that night; in order to recharge, a robot had to suspend all conscious action and run purely on their core programming, but Clank had been unable to get himself to calm down in the slightest. He'd tried everything and failed. And judging from the way Ratchet looked the next morning, he hadn't slept at all either. The misery went on until midday, when they both broke down and apologized at the same time, before laughing and curling up on the couch for some much needed rest.

Nighttime routine outside of this apartment was mostly the same, but abnormal as well. With friends in multiple galaxies, reputations as galactic heroes and former acting careers under their belts, the two did a lot of traveling – and this was not counting random quests to save the universe. When not at home, where they stayed depended on where they were. In Polaris, nights were spent at Apogee Station. The only real difference in routine on these nights – minus the absence of a workshop for Ratchet to get caught up in – was that Talwyn would often scold Ratchet, in a motherly tone, if he forgot to brush his teeth and Cronk and Zephyr, her guardians, would sometimes give him impromptu lessons on romance or ask them not to do... something, but whatever it was made Ratchet blush and duck away from them as fast as he could, so he assumed it was something embarrassing.

When in Bogon, as rare as that was, they often spent the night in hotels. Here, the routine included another step: get Ratchet to relax. The unfamiliar environment made him tense and jumpy; even more so than he was at home, somehow. These nights Clank put his undivided attention into making Ratchet comfortable and tired enough to doze off, even if only for two hours instead of the usual six. Techniques included getting more pillows, humming soft tunes, petting the Lombax's ears and face and, in desperate situations, he would offer a back rub or foot rub. When Ratchet did nod off, finally, Clank would lay even closer than normal. Never would he confess that unfamiliar surroundings made him more jumpy than natural as well. He would nuzzle into the Lombax's stomach, tune his sensor to awaken him to sounds of a softer decibel than normal, and fall into a state of recharge as slowly as Ratchet would fall asleep. Unlike normal, there was little time for reminiscing when they stayed at a hotel; he would wake up, usually, only minutes before Ratchet.

The pondering and memories would never fail to bring a smile to Clank's metallic lips. Every day granted him new data on both himself and his Lombax; their relationship was strange, and perhaps even a touch unhealthy, but he was beyond caring about that. The nightly thoughts always ended the same way; with Clank risking a kiss to his lover's temple, gently cooing in Ratchet's ear that he loved him. It wasn't something he'd said to a conscious Ratchet yet, but it felt good to get the words off his chest anyways. Normally, Ratchet would stir, coming dangerously close to waking up, but Clank would coo at him a little more, lulling him back to slumber for a little while longer while the robot watched the sunrise from their window; it gave them a perfect view of the star hovering over the Metropolis Museum of Art. The building was silhouetted in shadows, making the orange glow of the sky all that more noticeable. He would watch the morning traffic begin to build; one hovercraft become two, which would eventually become twenty. The birds would sing and the employes of the building across the street would begin to open up for the day. Every new day guaranteed a different portrait, but one thing always remained the same.

Every morning, Ratchet would awaken after a fitful six-hour rest. Sometimes it would still be dark; sometimes it would be an hour after sunrise. With the beginning of each day, he'd look to his side and see Clank there, watching him with loving eyes and a soft greeting. They would share a quick good morning kiss, and the day would begin.

Eighteen or so hours later, they'd be doing the whole thing over again.

* * *

Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank do not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: Happy Valentine's Day! I'd send you all chocolate, but the postage alone would bankrupt me. So you'll have to make do with a one-shot.

This was originally going to be about Ratchet writing Clank a poem and getting all embarrassed over it, but that was scraped because I suck at poetry. I managed to scrounge up some okay poem that compared them to trees, but lost it, then said 'screw it' and somehow came up with... this. Yeah, I don't know if this is good or not. It's sweet, I guess. Kinda summarizes how I feel about the pairing. By the way, this story would not have been possible without the song 'Watch You Sleep' by Blue Foundation. Odd thing is, I'm not sure if this is a happy song or a sad song, but it kept my morale high while writing this so... kudos, I guess.

What did I do good on?: "Show, don't tell"

What did I fail on?: It's really obvious – to me, at least – that I've spent the last few weeks writing English Essays. The sentances feel a bit more formulaic than what I've normally been writing. It's present in Carpe Diem too...

Random Question for Reviewers: Well, okay, so I have this idea for a fanfiction, see? It's really far in the development process; I've even gotten the first chapter typed up. It's a series of vignettes that focus on the development of the Ratchet/Clank from Clank's perspective. The only problem with this is I'm not sure how often I can update it, between school work and Carpe Diem. Should I still post it?


End file.
